


Sir Obi-Gawain and the Green Knight

by merry_amelie



Series: Academic Arcadia [238]
Category: Star Wars Episode I: The Phantom Menace
Genre: Alternate Reality, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-17
Updated: 2016-03-17
Packaged: 2018-05-27 07:57:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6276046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/merry_amelie/pseuds/merry_amelie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Couples' night out on St. Patrick's Day.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sir Obi-Gawain and the Green Knight

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Elayna](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elayna/gifts).



> Feedback: Is treasured at merryamelie@aol.com (or leave a comment).
> 
> Disclaimer: Mr. Lucas owns everything Star Wars. I'm not making any money.
> 
> For  
> My beta team: Emila-Wan and Carol  
> Mali Wane for posting to the Master Apprentice ML  
> Travis for posting to the Master Apprentice Archive on AO3  
> Alex for inspiring Arcadia 
> 
> General references:  
> [Sir Gawain and the Green Knight - Wikipedia](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sir_Gawain_and_the_Green_Knight)  
> [Scottish Gaelic - Wikipedia](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Scottish_Gaelic)  
> [The Art Institute of New York City](https://www.artinstitutes.edu/new-york)  
> [Irish Toasts - Gaelicmatters.com](http://www.gaelicmatters.com/irish-toasts.html)
> 
> Arcadian references:  
> [Anniversary Surprise](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4948819) \-- first mention of the little four-leaf clover  
> [Christmas in Williamsburg (Revised)](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4276173)  
> [A Symposium on Love](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1416961)  
> [The Dune Sea](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4388405)
> 
> Our lads celebrate St. Patrick's Day:  
> [St. Patrick's Play](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1793587)  
> [Charming](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1843609) \-- starring the little shamrock  
> [Green](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1397446)

  
  
[Helen](mailto:hsv@comcast.net)'s beautiful montage

"Happy St. Patrick's Day!"

Quinn gave the toast and clinked mugs of Guinness stout with his family. He, Ian, Kathy, and Monty were gathered at a pub by the name of 'The Green Knight' in Greenwich Village for a festive holiday dinner. They were just at the start of their celebration, with the treats still to come.

Since it was Thursday, both couples had met after work -- the professors taking the Metro-North train from the Poughkeepsie station, and Kathy and Monty taking the subway to the Christopher Street station. At least both trains were delayed, so that Quinn and Ian didn't have to wait for the other couple too long when they met at the restaurant.

Ian had made their reservation more than a week in advance, or there would have been no hope of getting a table for hours. He and Quinn had seen the pub on one of their rambles through the Village a couple of months ago and loved the exterior, with its stained glass and dark wood. They'd gone inside to check the menu and would have eaten dinner right then and there, if not for the fact that they had just finished a meal at 'The Dune Sea', one of their favorite restaurants in the area. They'd first taken Kathy and Monty there in 2012, and it had quickly become a fixture on a lot of their excursions to Manhattan. But 'The Green Knight' was a new place to visit for all of them, and so far, it seemed like a perfect choice for the occasion.

Luckily, their booth was well away from the bar, which was yielding the proverbial pot o' gold for the owners of the pub tonight. A local band played a 'Chieftains' song a few yards away from them, as well, close enough to hear over the cacophony, far enough away so that the music did not overwhelm their conversation and stayed comfortably in the background. Quinn was particularly glad that they were seated by a window open to the fresh air of mid-March, and that they looked out on a side street. The window was only raised slightly, though, since it was a brisk night and technically, springtime wouldn't start for another couple of days.

A proper feast was spread in front of them; they'd decided to share platters of holiday-themed specials and let Quinn pick the food. This turned out to be a wise decision, since they were surrounded by an abundance of Irish bliss -- Ian's favorite bangers and mash; beef and stout pasties; corned beef and cabbage; shepherd's pie. Warm Irish soda bread was wrapped in a napkin in its basket, with soft herb butter by its side. Besides the Guinness, they each had a glass of iced Evian water to drink.

Quinn remembered each time Ian had playfully eaten a sausage on a date with him, starting with their very first meal together, on the train to their 'Symposium on Love' in Massachusetts. He was still as amazed as that famous time at Ian's ability to tease him subtly, while retaining a proper public demeanor. Some things never changed.

Ian remembered their visit to the Governor's Palace gardens in Williamsburg, where they'd had meat pasties for lunch after a tour of the palace. He could still smell the camellias that had bordered their bench and recalled the fun they'd had puzzling out the intricacies of the maze on that long-ago afternoon.

The couples eagerly dug into all of the goodness surrounding them, with Quinn eating the Master's share, as always. Another constant was the presence of the professors' lucky charms, although they were not relegated to their pockets tonight -- the little four-leaf clover, the newest addition to the family, which Ian had gifted to Quinn on their 10th anniversary this past October; and, of course, the little shamrock, who'd been part of the family for decades, and belonged to Ian now, since Quinn had given it to him, back in 2004. It had been exactly seventy years, since Quinn's grandfather had brought the shamrock home for his wife on a beautiful March 17th in Ireland.

This was the first St. Patrick's Day when both tiny charms were together, in their traditional place on the lapels of the professors' brown and tan corduroy jackets. The charms were happy they were not carried in the pockets of their matching slacks and instead were out and about on this special day. This year, Quinn was wearing an emerald-green cardigan beneath his jacket, since the temperature was only in the 40s that night. Ian wore a forest-green sweater but had opened his jacket as the stout kicked in.

Ian was getting into the holiday spirit just as much as Quinn himself. Earlier today, they'd eaten lunch with their friends at the Faculty Club, ordering the colcannon, a warm-up for tonight with Kathy and Monty. And now, he had a surprise for Quinn; especially for today, he had learned a toast in Irish Gaelic phonetically to give his husband and kinfolk.

Instead of standing up in this public place, Ian started to ting his fork against his beer mug for attention. He raised his mug of Guinness and said, "Beannachtaí na Féile Pádraig oraibh!" (Blessing of St. Patrick's Day on you!) It sounded almost like this -- the proper pronunciation -- to Quinn: Ban-awch(k)-tee nah Fay-leh Paw-rig ur-iv!

The whole table started to clap, and Quinn looked at Ian with shining eyes, befitting his heritage.

"Oh, laddie! That was just grand!" Quinn said, positively beaming.

"You're really getting into the holiday spirit," said Monty with approval.

"Well, Quinn made it easy for me. Right before we came by train, he warmed me up." Ian speared a bit of banger on his fork, dipping it in mustard.

Luckily, the double entendre went right by Kathy and Monty, or seemed to anyway. Meanwhile, Quinn was hard-put not to snort into his stout.

Ian went blithely on: "When we were still in our Luke office, Quinn read an excerpt from 'Sir Gawain and the Green Knight' to me." What Ian neglected to mention to Kathy and Monty, completely on purpose, was that Quinn had said that he was Ian's own Green Knight, and Ian had answered that he was Quinn's Sir Gawain. That was a private pledge of love between them.

"Oh, yes," Kathy said in excitement. "I remember reading it for my medieval lit course at Hunter."

"Whch translation did you read?" asked Quinn with interest.

"We read the Armitage rendition," Kathy answered.

Ian started to laugh. "Quinn read me the Tolkien version, of course."

"What other translation would you two hobbits choose?" Monty asked teasingly.

Quinn could not let that pass without a quip worthy of Ian. "Remember, Monty, I'm a blend of hobbit and Ent. Ent that so, lad?"

Ian's earlier laugh proved to be contagious; the entire table began to chuckle; just when they had expected the usual pun from Ian, Quinn decided to deliver a groaner.

Monty cleaned up with his napkin after he'd finished eating the final bite of shepherd's pie, the last of the various delicacies on his plate. "Hey, guys, I've got something to show you." So saying, he took out of his pocket a copy of what looked like a letter with old-fashioned handwriting.

Monty handed the letter to Ian; it turned out to be written in Scottish Gaelic and was from his grandfather to his grandmother, the other set of grandparents. He took a couple of moments to translate, since he wasn't really conversant in the language. Because the order of words in a sentence was verb|subject|object, Ian thought fleetingly of Master Yoda with amusement at the Jedi connection. He translated the letter aloud for the benefit of Kathy and Quinn.

"Wow! Where did you find this, Monty?" Ian asked, enthusiasm just bouncing off of him. Not only was it a linguistic challenge, but it also was a family heirloom.

Monty smiled, pleased with Ian's reaction to this new-found treasure. "I was going through some family papers for taxes this year, and I noticed a yellowed piece of note-paper, which was clearly out of place.

"As soon as I read it, I realized it was from Granda to Grannie." Monty patted Kathy's hand lovingly.

"This is amazing -- it's the only letter of theirs we have. The others were lost in the move to America." Ian grinned at Quinn, who was looking at the letter with reverence.

Monty said, "I already have the original paper in a plastic sheath to protect it. It will be Lelia's someday."

"May we keep this copy?" asked Ian.

Monty nodded. "Yes, I made it for you guys, and I've also made many more, enough for the whole extended family."

I still can't believe that Monty rescued the letter from literally thousands of papers surrounding it," Kathy marveled.

"And it took an accountant to find it." Ian grinned at Monty. "My brother, the C.P.A.," he said with pride.

"Speaking of this gift to Lelia and all of us," said Kathy, "I also have something to give you." She picked up her briefcase, beside her on the seat, and snapped it open to pull out an oversized manila envelope. "This is a present from Lelia for both of you for the holiday." She handed it to Quinn with a smile as proud as Ian's.

Quinn used his napkin before handling the gift; he took it out carefully and almost gasped when he saw it. Lelia's artwork was a watercolor painting of an Irish meadow in early morning, impossibly green and glimmering. Flowers and trees were everywhere, just like in their back yard in Alder Run. There was a double rainbow blessing the sky, and they all knew that Lelia had painted one for each of her uncles.

Quinn used the envelope for backing and touched that, instead of the canvas board. He passed the painting to Ian this way and chuckled at his indrawn breath. "Our lassie can surely paint, can't she?"

Ian nodded, still living in the painting. "She might be interested in taking classes at the Art Institute when she's in high school. I can see her thriving there."

"Good idea, Ian," said Kathy. "It's over on 40th Street, so it's close to where I work."

Monty said, "In the meantime, her junior high has a great art program, as you can certainly see."

Undeterred by her husband's focus on the here and now, Kathy was thinking of the future, just like Ian. "I'll just bet our little girl gets offered a scholarship," she said, proud Mama written all over her.

Their waiter came and asked if they wanted dessert; Bailey's Irish Cream Cake made a delicious choice, especially when the waiter said that it was coated with chips of white and dark chocolate and drizzled with Creme de Menthe to add a festive touch for the holiday. He put their used plates and platters on a tray and left to bring them one slice of cake to share.

The dessert itself was even better than its description, and working together, they polished off the entire huge slice. Quinn saved Ian a mocha flower and presented it to him on his fork. If they'd been at home, or even if Kathy and Monty had not been there, Ian would have eaten it right from Quinn's fork, letting his herven feed him. As it was, Ian decorously took the fork from Quinn's warm hand and ate the treat by himself. Ian couldn't resist sharing a charged look with Quinn, however.

When Kathy and Monty went to their respective restrooms after they had finished eating, Ian took Quinn's hand and said in a hushed voice, "Oh, love. My granda said the same thing to Grannie that I said to you in one of _our_ love letters. I can see that you recognized it, too."

His voice gone to gravel, Quinn said, "Yes: 'You are my heart'," he quoted, both from Ian's letter and from that of Ian's grandfather.

Words forever true.


End file.
